50 years ago, Paul McCartney and Wings captured the art of hospitality in ‘Let ‘Em In’
The mid-1970s was an especially interesting time for Paul McCartney and Wings.
Not only were they enjoying a series of distinctive successes with a handful of charting records, but they were also faced with a different sort of point to prove, with McCartney feeling the pressure to prove that Wings wasn’t just viewed as a solo passion project from a former member of the Fab Four but a well-oiled machine where each musician had their own specific role to play.
The band made and released Wings at the Speed of Sound during their Wings Over The World tour, during which McCartney started to face criticisms about the purpose of the band and whether it was instead just an elaborate ploy to further his career as a solo musician.
Recognising that this was slander he needed to address, he made sure the record spotlighted the different contributions of each member, with songs that saw each musician taking on lead vocals and others that were written by members other than McCartney.
That said, a major part of the record’s success is owed to the two lead singles themselves, ‘Silly Love Songs’ and ‘Let ‘Em In’, both written by McCartney, with ‘Silly Love Songs’ appearing as a diss at McCartney’s musical peers and other media critics who accused him of putting out nothing more than lighthearted love songs that barely carry much meaning.
While it might have also appeared to be another lightweight song about nothing in particular, ‘Let ‘Em In’, on the other hand, is actually far more personal, featuring various tributes to a few different people in McCartney’s life, from Keith Moon and the Everly Brothers to his aunt and his former bandmate, John Lennon. On the surface, the song’s lyrics are inherently playful, with each name-dropped figure knocking on the door as if arriving at a party.
However, it also reveals something deeper about where McCartney was mentally at that moment in time, revealing his constant need to keep his world open and welcome people in, even if he wasn’t sure where they fit in the broader chaos anymore. After all, it’s easy to see how ‘Silly Love Songs’ could have been a subtle or not-so-subtle jab at John Lennon’s previous criticisms about the quality of McCartney’s words and melodies, and, by extension, a representation of the singer’s general desire to shut out his former life and everyone in it.
Instead, however, the song suggests that, while this might have been the case to a degree, there’s also an openness to McCartney’s words that proves he was never quite that guarded when it came to those whom he allowed space in his life. The nature of the party setting also gives a similar kind of warmth, where no matter who it is that’s appearing at his doorstep, he’ll meet them with the same welcoming attitude (“Open the door and let ’em in”).
As such, it becomes less a simple catchy, cutesy tune marking one of the most successful points in McCartney’s career, but an anthem that captures his inherent gentle nature. His door is, quite literally, wide open to anyone who ventures near, and his life is a constant party where anybody is welcome, even those from bygone eras, with a false fade out that anchors the ongoing nature of a continuous get-together where the liveliness never really dies down.
Suppose, therefore, that that was also the crux of Wings: not a singular entity to bolster McCartney’s personal endeavours, but a continuous party that saved space for everyone.
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